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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28099896">Seize the Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/napkins/pseuds/napkins'>napkins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Changing POV, Gen, Pre-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:20:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28099896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/napkins/pseuds/napkins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eudoria finds it hard to hold secret meetings with an ultra-curious child. Though perhaps she has raised Enola to be just so.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes &amp; Eudoria Vernet Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Yuletide 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Seize the Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryLanding/gifts">Avocados (MercuryLanding)</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In retrospect, this moment had always been coming; Eudoria couldn’t find it in her heart to be angry.</p><p>Not with the way little Enola stood at the door, her hand upstretched to just barely reach the handle of the door she’d pushed open. Dash, as usual, trailed behind her, his string clutched in her other hand. He rattled near her ankles as she reached up to rub sleepily at her eye with that hand, rather than relinquish her hold on the door handle.</p><p>“Mummy?”</p><p>They must have been too loud, even if the walls of Ferndell Hall were thick. They’d drunk to Eudoria’s widowhood, their mourning wrapped in the silver lining of fewer secrets to keep and the bitterness that their freedom still came at the expense of a man. He’d been a good man and Eudoria would miss him, but now it was Enola and her against the world; all her boys had gone their ways and it was time for her to show Enola that she could have her own way as well.</p><p>“Oh Enola, can’t sleep?” she asked, scooping Enola up into her arms. “Bad dreams?” she tried again, when Enola shook her head. “Well, you know, the way to chase away bad dreams is to think of even bigger, better ones. Ones so big they’re indefatigable defenders against everything else.”</p><p>“What’s inde...indefat...repeat it,” Enola demanded, her sleepy voice as she snuggled into Eudoria’s shoulder making Eudoria’s heart ache.</p><p>She looked back at the gathering of women who had come to be by her side and nodded at them. They’d talked and written, published and argued, but perhaps it was time to fight.</p><p>She looked down at Enola in her arms, already drifting back to sleep now that safety was assured. It was time for things to change.</p>
<hr/><p>“We need a proper plan,” one of the women was saying when Eudoria heard it. A creak, as if the board that she’d purposefully torn up and reconstructed after reading about nightingale floors had been stepped on. As if a very curious nine-year-old had forgotten herself and everything her mother was already trying to teach her and was trying to listen at the door.</p><p>“Well, I don’t know about you all, but I’m feeling parched. I’ll be right back with more punch.” Edith squinted at her, raising one eyebrow at Eudoria’s louder-than-normal voice, but the sound of footsteps scurrying away in the hallway outside had them all smiling.</p><p>“She’s a curious one, Enola.” Edith passed Eudoria the punch jug, which truly did need to be refilled. Planning their next protest always led to many dry throats as they all talked themselves hoarse.</p><p>“Too curious,” another woman muttered.</p><p>“Now, weren’t we all there? And if we hadn’t been, then how would we have ended up here?” Eudoria winked as she left the room with the jug. It was a good tool to set down loudly when she got to the library, where Enola was sat in an over-stuffed armchair that she loved, looking for all the world like she’d been curled up there with the book spread across her lap all evening. She might have gotten away with it too, if she hadn’t looked up <em>quite</em> so guiltily at the sound of the jug against wood.</p><p>“Enola,” Eudoria started.</p><p>“I didn’t hear anything, and really, I just wanted to know who was here and if I knew them. Was Miss Edith here? I’ve been practicing my jiujitsu!” Her feet swung slightly as they dangled from the arm of the chair as if retracing the move she wanted to show off.</p><p>Eudoria walked to her, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. “Privacy is the highest virtue, Enola—”</p><p>“And the one most frequently violated,” Enola recited. Eudoria tapped her nose.</p><p>“It’s up to you to know when it’s important to breach someone’s privacy and when to leave it.”</p><p>“But how will I know?”</p><p>Eudoria tapped her nose once more before standing up and striding back to the door, picking up the jug as she went. “That’s for you to figure out.”</p>
<hr/><p>“So we’re agreed. Ellie Houseman.” Eudoria had left the door open this time. Her stomach roiled with anticipation: for their plan, for the suffrage efforts, for what would happen when Enola turned 16 and her own time ran out. She’d never really expected Mycroft to go along with her increasingly absurd and clearly nonsensical requests for so long, but the boy was nothing but practical and stodgy. She didn’t know where he got it from. At least Enola and Sherlock had turned out respectably, even remarkably.</p><p>It was an odd balance, between her entire body breaking out in goosebumps and a profound sense of relief at seeing Enola’s dear, dear face peeking through the crack in the door. She hadn’t spoken loudly, hadn’t left any clues that there were other people at Ferndell Hall that night, but Enola had done her proud and realized it all on her own. <em>It would be all just fine<em>, she told her racing heart, as she put on a stern expression. Enola would be fine. She was smart, she was practiced, she had grown as best Eudoria could arrange for her, unfettered and free. It was time for her to decide for herself if she wanted that to continue. If she wanted to seize her future.</em></em></p><p>
  <em> <em>As she went to close the door, she winked, a reassurance to both herself and Enola. Her darling girl.</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>There was time enough for the outside world to harm them both, and it seemed that time had come. She could only hope to affect what change she could for both their sakes.</em> </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> <em>“The irises are most beautiful at their origin,” Enola read aloud as she transcribed, spinning the dial of numbers and letters familiarly. At this point, she hardly needed it, but the motions of it were soothing, as was any chance to use her mother’s birthday present. </em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“Irises…” Even if the message hadn’t been signed ‘Chrysanthemum’, the irises gave Eudoria away. The personal ads were only so long, after all. But ‘their origin’... Enola flipped through the book of flower language, until she found the card of irises. Pulling it free of its brackets, she flipped it over. She smiled at the sight of a maker’s mark, for a factory in London that made the cardstock that Eudoria had painted the cards on.</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Just to check, she pried free all the cards; sure enough, the iris was the only one of the set with the mark.</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Still, she took no chances; she’d started a stash of breeches and caps and waistcoats after every newsboy and paper seller nearby had started avoiding her just on principle. It wouldn’t do to be predictable, after all. She tugged the cap low on her brow as she approached the factory. Its doors were shuttered and looked closed for the day, apart from the small bit of purple ribbon that fluttered in the wind, seemingly caught on one of the windowsills. </em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Looking more closely, it was snagged purposefully, and Enola couldn’t help the smile that stole across her face. </em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Finding the delivery entrance was only a matter of time; soon, Enola slipped through the halls of the closed factory, listening for voices. She found them all, encircled around a table as she’d found them so many times in the past.</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>This time, however, instead of darting away, she stepped through the doorway and into the open space in the circle that was made for her.</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“Ladies, if I may introduce Enola Holmes, my daughter.” At the head of the table, Eudoria winked at her as she unrolled a poster. “Now, let’s get down to business.”</em> </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432358">[Podfic] Seize the Day</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedy_dancer/pseuds/greedy_dancer">greedy_dancer</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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